Page 92 of The Fullback
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Hunter
We spenthours in the pub, the three of us squashed around the table in the corner pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.
The food was much better than I’d anticipated, which felt like a metaphor for the pub itself, and I was so lost in conversation that it wasn’t until my fork scraped against the empty plate that I realised I’d eaten everything.
Bailey and Aiden had both had pudding, and Bacon had brought me an extra pint when I’d told him I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. But I had stolen a tiny mouthful of ice cream off the top of Aiden’s apple crumble, watching his face light up with delight as I licked it off his spoon.
Our conversation meandered leisurely across topics as we caught each other up on the last ten days or so, all of us getting distracted and going off on tangents about random things whenever we were reminded about something else. We told Aiden about the shit time we’d had against Exeter, I complained about Jaden’s overuse of toxic body spray, and we all ended up swapping stories about what we’d used at school, with Aidenadding a story about someone setting a can on fire in the science labs to see if it would explode.
“It wasn’t me or Bacon or Greenie,” he said, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he crossed his heart.
Somehow I didn’t believe him.
Aiden talked about the kitchen and getting back to work, venting for twenty minutes about the state of everything. He’d set up shop in the kitchen of The Nag’s Head for now, because apparently there had been some issues discovered in his building which required further examination before they’d be given more information about when they could hopefully move back in.
Aiden was pretty convinced that meant the whole thing was about to become an epic shitshow and I had to agree. Considering how vague the management were still being about the situation, my guess was they’d discovered something like mould, damp, or a swamp under the floor. Bailey was betting on massive structural damage—like the walls were two seconds away from crumbling or the foundations were cracking—while Aiden thought it was probably a bit of everything, or failing that, something truly outrageous like missing treasure, corpses, or a rat city, complete with domed cathedrals and a palace.
“They found Richard III under a car park in Leicester. Who’s to say there’s not a rat empire? I, for one, welcome our new rat overlords,” Aiden said as he scraped the last of his apple crumble out of the bowl. He had a bit of ice cream clinging to the edge of his moustache, and if we hadn’t been in the middle of the pub, I’d have licked it off.
Instead, I reached out and used my thumb to wipe it away.
Then I licked my thumb.
Aiden’s eyes went wide, and so did Bailey’s across the table. But it wasn’t like anyone could see me. They were all too busy watching one of the pub’s teenage patrons argue with Baconabout the football. Or try to. Bacon seemed to be largely ignoring him.
I was vaguely interested in what might happen, but mostly I was too focused on what was going on at my table. We had Aiden all to ourselves, with no nosy teammates, no training to get back to, and no older brothers to sneak around. And with everything out in the open, there was no stress or pressure holding us back.
It almost felt like I’d been released from a scrum, and the relief was immense.
“You know, if I wasn’t so full, I’d take you back to mine right now and fuck you through the mattress,” Aiden said with a wry smirk, his eyes roaming across me.
“You could fuck me later,” I said hopefully. Now I’d relaxed, need was starting to simmer under my skin, burning a hole in my chest and making my cock ache like I hadn’t come in months.
“I could. And I might,” Aiden said. “But you two also had a rough match yesterday and I don’t want to hurt you. Not with Bailey already carrying an injury.”
“I’m fine,” Bailey said, sipping his pint.
“Yeah, right. Like your ankle wasn’t the size of an apple when we got up this morning,” I said, raising my eyebrow to casually challenge his assertion. And if I ratted him out to Aiden in the process, well, that was a bonus. I was a bit worried something more serious was going on, but since Bailey said it was fine and didn’t hurt that much, I couldn’t really do anything.
Except tattle on him to our boyfriend, who’d absolutely have something to say.
Bailey glared at me. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just twisted it!”
“Doesn’t mean you have to make it worse,” Aiden said. “I’m not being the reason you’re out for six weeks with a ligament tear. And do you really fancy explaining that to your coach?”
“… No.”
“Exactly.”
“But if I’m lying down, I’m not putting any weight on my ankle. And I can always put some pillows under it.”
“Maybe, but only if you stop whining,” Aiden said, clearly amused by Bailey’s antics.
“I’m not whining! I’m simply explaining that we’ve got options. It’s not as bad assomeoneis making it out to be.”
“Excuse me for caring about your sorry arse,” I said. I put my foot out under the table and tried to nudge him, hoping I was aiming for his uninjured ankle.
